I’m moody this week. And tired. At least there was a drunken holiday and good food in the middle of the week. But that just made me more tired. Going to bed with a belly full of beer and rich food does NOT make for restful sleeping apparently.

Nor does a red bull and vodka, which is what I had last night while playing WoW. It’s an ok game. Loads of fun and a MAJOR time suck if you’re bit careful. But the strategy it takes…

No one should have to think that hard to play a video game unless it’s Zelda. If you don’t know what I’m talking about try playing Ocarina of Time.

Also, I’m told I’ve been promoted. Which is awesome because this means I get bonuses when we do a good job. Bonuses mean more savings. And right now, that’s a good thing.

And my boss just discovered women’s tits are two different sizes. How he didn’t know, I have no idea. I told him the human body isn’t symmetrical and that one of his nuts was bigger than the other. He freaked out for ten minutes and said he was gonna have his wife check. Ummm, really? I was taught that in health class. Maybe it’s just the whole gay thing. I think it’s just because I actually paid attention in class. Yes, I was that guy…DO NOT JUDGE ME!!!!

Also, some stupid bitch pissed me off. I know, I work in customer service and someone pissed me off. Big surprise. But this chick took the cake today, even beyond the “I’m just gonna cut everyone off in line because I think I know everything even where your name comes from because you’re obviously completely illiterate because you work at a gas station” jack ass I had earlier. Her car was broken and it was my fault and apparently that means she has to whine at me for ten minutes when I have other, more important things I need to take care of.

Winner of the Stupid Bitch of the Month Award goes to………………………….THE IGNORANT CUNT AT PUMP 12. Come on down and claim your prize. You have now one the title of Stupid Bitch of the Month and will be receiving the worst customer service ever from now on and will be treated like the idiot you are. How do you feel?

So I don’t have much time on my hands to get out and meet people, thus my turning to the Internet. I’ve posted before about meeting people online and how well it doesn’t work. Sometimes I meet someone interesting, mostly they’re flakes, but occasionally they turn out to be far above the level I’ve lovingly titled “Douche Yacht”.

Case in point:

I went over to Craigslist (likely my first mistake) to check out things for sale (still in the market for a new fridge/freezer combo) and made my way over to strictly platonic. Usually I don’t like these things and tend to laugh at many of them, but sometimes one will catch my attention and I’ll reply. This chick was just looking for a friend, or so she claimed.***

I emailed her and was like, “Yo, wassup” and thus began what I thought was going to be a strictly platonic instant messaging relationship. As anyone who’s read more than one post on this blog knows, my lifehas beenhectic these past couple months. I’ve been working anywhere from 50 to 60 hours or more a week, have been struggling with insomnia and panick attacks, etc, etc, bitch, moan… You get the idea, I’m sure.

So, I log into Yahoo messenger and was like, “I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with this chick in a while, so I’ll see what’s up”. So I send a message along the lines of “Wow, it’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

Apparently this makes me an asshole that deserves to be told off. Somebody has some inferiority issues they need to work through because, sorry bitch, I have a life, too. Being the mature guy I am I quickly apologized for bothering er and wished her well.***

I can’t, however, keep from being upset because this cunt seems to think she’s just oh so important after we had a total of maybe three conversations before my life turned to shit. So, to all those self-important bitches out there, just get over yourselves already.

***Oh, how I wish this story could have ended with the makings of a great story for a new porn, but, alas, thus is not my life.

***And if you believe that, I’ve got a great condo right off the Arizona bay you’ve just gotta see to believe.

So at work we’re doing this whole MDA donation thing where we ask people for change or to donate $1 or $5 dollars and then give them coupons for free stuff. A lot of people say no, which is their prerogative, and completely ok. I asked one guy, who used to be one of my favorite customers, if he wanted to donate his 29 cents to MDA and it went like this:

Me: would you like to donate your 29 cents to MDA?

Him: What’s that?

Me: Would you like to donate your 29 cents to MDA? It’s the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

Him: MDA…what charity’s that again?

Me: The Muscular Dystrophy Association. You know, Jerry’s Kids.

Him: PFFT, sure, yeah, I guess, since it helps those poor kids. But, ya know, if anyone knew about Jerry’s private sexual life aint but nobody would donate to it.

Me: *laughs*

Him: No, I’m serious. Damn homosexuals *mumble, mumble*

Wow, really? It’s 20fucking10, y’all. Who the fuck says shit like that now? And it’s unusual to hear from someone older like that. I’m used to the overly homophobic under 35 guys who seem to think they’re just so fucking hot everybody wants to fuck them. Yeah, no, you’re not that hot, bro, so just stop all ready. Hell, my pink-shirt-wearing-eyebrow-tweezing-hundred-pair-of-shoes-owning priss of a boss is the same damn way. And, really, it’s kind of funny when he’s all “I don’t mind what you do in your own time, as long as none of them touch me” so, of course, I poke him. (With my finger. He’s married. Damn, you people sure think dirty.)

Of course, there were the two chicks who looked damn near identical, though the one was shorter than the other, and I asked if they were related…that fucking pissed me off. “What, you think all white people look alike?” Um, no bitch, because my mama, though I never met the woman who’s spawn I am, was 10,000 times prettier than you will ever be, so stop being a stupid ho and smarten up a bit and suck some cock to make your $5 for your cheap pack of smokes and get the fuck out of my store.

So thus far the week’s been pretty crappy. And, yes, I partially mean that in a literal sense. Figuratively speaking, I mean I tried telling my boss off and that I couldn’t deal with his shut anymore and also explaining to him that he’s giving me an ulcer but he just told me I’m a great employee an that everything will work out just fine and that I’m doing a great job. And, yes, I realize commas should be somewhere in there but, really, with everything else I have to worry about, I’m saying “Fuck punctuation!”

And I started a grammatical argument with a coworker concerning “lay” vs “lie” and whether saying “I don’t lie” could be interpreted as I sleep standing up. I simply explained that people “lay” and things “lie”, which I was taught in Primary school in the grand state of Florida. I feel absolutely no need to look up whether I am, in fact, correct, since I know the Florida state education system is filled with wonderful and fine institutions. (read: everything I learned in Florida has been proven wrong time and time again)

Also, the great state of Texas neglected to teach me the proper process for human procreation and I fully believed lesbians couldn’t get pregnant by having sex with a man until the age of 22. True story. Had a girlfriend sit me down so we could have that wonderful talk about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees. And hen h explained to me why Jeremiah was a bullfrog and the real reason he shouldn’t be my friend. Did I mention she was almost always high on something and this conversation involved several joints and a bottle of rum? Eh, that’s not important.

What IS important is that I’m starting to get antsy about finally writing my book I’ve been threatening to write for two decades and am considering the purchase of a netbook to help in this cause. Or possibly just the battery charging iPhone case. Or a new notebook and doing it all the old-fashioned way. But when I do that I never know just what I’ve written since I tend to get excited when I write and have no idea what I’ve written due to horrific penmanship.

So I’ve been trying to get out of the store I’m at since my boss is an idiot too nice a guy to work for. I found a place to go, but, alas, thanks to having the epically poor timing I have been graced with, one of my employees quit, leaving us shorthanded by a full timer. This situation does not please me.

One of the managers has six kids. It takes a lot to finagle someone to take care of six kids, especially on short notice. And especially when the notice you’re given is at 10 o’clock at night. All because the store manager decided he deserves a day off. I’m not ok with that. The assistant’s not ok with that. Apparently it doesn’t matter.

And apparently computers are never wrong. They’re suggestions are always right. Which boils down to us having a weeks supply of Copenhagen delivered three times a week so we end up throwing it away and writing it off.

And I worked with a kid tonight who is 18 going on 79. There used to be this 78-year-old woman who worked with us in Subway. She wasn’t crotchety, but she was moody as hell and seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. This guy…yeah… Kind of makes me wonder what he’s actually going to be like when he hits 78.

But don’t mess with the elderly. This lady thought my employee was being rude and decided to go on the following tangent:

Well, I guess if I was too stupid to have a real job and a retirement plan so I could actually retire and was forced to work at a fucking Subway when I was 92 fucking years old I’d be a rude, bitter, shriveled old bitch, too! But that doesn’t mean she has to be a rude, bitter old bitch to me. I don’t deserve that shit. I’m never coming back to this fucking Subway again. Stupid old hag!

To which I replied by throwing her money at her and giving her 60 seconds to leave my store before I reported her for stealing sandwiches and gave PD her license plate number.

And, yes, I realize the above response is rather lame and anticlimactic, but for a guy who normally just smiles and nods and says “Yes ma’am/No ma’am” and then calls her a fucking cunt later to actually say that to the customer that’s still standing in front of him…it felt good. It felt damn good. And what made it even sweeter is I never got in trouble for it.

So I logged into a social networking app today and said hi to some people. A few are a bit sketchy, a couple are relatively sane. It’s a nice change of pace from the crazies I usually end up with.*

Trying to meet people online is like trying to cross the Sahara without a water skin. Sometimes you find an oasis, sometimes not. It’s sad that most people don’t even respond. I take that back. It’s infuriating. I mean, you obviously aren’t that fucking busy if you’re logged into a chat app, right? Who does business that way? No one I’ve ever met. Ok, there was that one hooker, but that was just a conversation. Really. It was free and there was no business contact with him whatsoever and you can’t prove otherwise!

I know I’m not that ugly, some would even say I’m cute, so maybe I’m the crazy one. But, really, I always thought I was more loveably insane than axe-murder-crazy. Although the whole staying awake for days on end until I begin to hallucinate thing might prove me wrong someday. I might end up hallucinating someone is trying to kill me or end up completely nuts like dude in “My Bloody Valentine”. You never know.

And that’s the entire problem with meeting people online: you never know. They could really be an organ harvester looking to sell your kidneys on the black market or, worse yet, your testicles. How much would that suck to wake up in a bathtub filled with ice only to find your testicles gone?

But I guess it could always be worse. I could always end up on the news like George Michaels and have to release a music video with gold urinals. Talk about tacky. I never want to be forced to save face by releasing a video like that. I mean, disco is so out of style it’s not even funny.

*Please note that I could, very well, be lying through my teeth. That’s the great thing about this medium: I can say or do whatever I want. As long as somebody finds it entertaining, that’s all that matters.

Vista sucks. And not in that good mind-blowing blow sense of suck. Not even in that “holy shit, who would have thought a rim job could be good” kind of blow. It sucks in that “what the fuck was I thinking when I hit that” kind of sense. But at least now I know why they were charging $75 more to get XP than to go with Vista.

To be blunt, when comparing the two, XP is that amazing prostitute that gives the great head and has the nice, firm tits everyone wants to play with, while Vista is the overused whore on the corner who wasted all her money on pointless cosmetic surgeries in a vapid attempt to make her more attractive, all culminating in her being the chick that makes you think, “Oh, snap, that bitch done got hit by the ugly truck and the mother fucker backed up and ran over her again!”

I played with 98 quite a bit. Instead of masturbating while I was in high school, or surfing the net for porn, I stayed up all night playing with settings and breaking Windows (which, honestly, is it really that hard to break Windows?) so I could figure out how to fix it. Then I downgraded to 95 because I was bored and did the same thing. All of that made XP not so difficult to work with when I had a problem.

Vista? That’s a whole different ball game.

It’s like when you sit down at the table to play cards and you’re all “Hit me!” or “Double down” and then they tell you you’re playing poker and you’re all “What the fuck? I don’t even play poker!” and then they laugh at you and take all you’re money. That’s exactly what Vista is like.

But it’s ok, because I pretended I was a complete and utter moron and did exactly what someone who only knew how to check their email would do and now I have a working computer. Yay for being intelligent enough to act stupid enough to fix Windows.